8:00 PM. The StreamZone Platform.
"Maverick" Mark, a veteran streamer with a subscriber count that usually commanded respect, was currently performing his signature move: The Thousand-Yard Stare.
He sat motionless in his gaming chair, looking at the grey "Spectating" screen in front of him. His expression was devoid of joy, anger, or hope. It was a look of transcendent, Buddhist serenity—or simply the face of a man whose soul had left his body three hours ago.
The chat window on his second monitor, however, was scrolling at the speed of light.
[xX_Slayer_Xx]: New viewers, don't panic. The streamer isn't frozen. He's just rebooting his will to live. [PogChamp2024]: Is this a Battle Royale or a Parachute Simulator? I swear he spends more time in the air than on the ground. [Simp4Loot]: Maverick, bro, maybe it's time to switch games? You don't have to be a 'Technical Streamer' if the tech hates you. [Richie_Rich]:sent $100 - "Read the donation, old man! Go play something else!" [GamerGirl_BathWater]: If you can't aim, just say so. Don't blame the game lol. [CryptoKing]: Thanks for the sub! Maverick, seriously, check out the Indie Showdown. This BR is trash.
Maverick was a professional. The moment the donation alert pinged—a generic robotic voice reading the text—he snapped out of his vegetative state. He plastered on his business smile.
"Yo, Richie! Thanks for the hundo, my guy. Much love to the Tier 3 subs in the chat," Maverick said, pulling the sleek VR headset off his face and rubbing his eyes. He leaned into his microphone, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "But for real? You guys saw that, right? I headshot that guy twice. Point blank. No registration."
He began alt-tabbing out of the game, typing furiously into the browser.
"I'm telling you," he ranted, "the graphics in Gunfire Reborn are getting insane, sure. The textures on the trees look better than the trees in my backyard. But the feedback? It still feels like I'm waving a plastic wand at a TV screen. If the haptic feedback wasn't so floaty, I wouldn't have missed. That wasn't a skill issue; that was a dev issue."
It sounded like typical streamer copium, but the chat surprisingly started to agree.
[Tac0_Bell]: True actually. The recoil feels fake. [Neon_Ninja]: Don't get me started on the skins. The guy who killed you was glowing like a radioactive Christmas tree. I'm literally going blind from the light pollution. [Dev_Hater]: Vanguard Games made $9 billion this quarter and they can't fix the server tick rate? Scams. [Corporate_Shill]: Oh stop whining. VR is hard to code. Why don't you buy the new Battle Pass and support the devs instead of crying? [Based_God]: ^ Found the Vanguard employee. [Loot_Goblin]: Imagine defending a mega-corp. Cringe.
Maverick nodded along, reading the wall of text. He agreed with every word. Vanguard Games didn't treat players like humans; they treated them like ATMs with legs. But as a streamer, he couldn't bite the hand that fed him too hard. Gunfire Reborn was where the viewers were. It was barely playable, but it was popular.
"Alright, alright," Maverick said, waving a hand. "Let's see what the indie scene has to offer. Chat keeps telling me to check out the Global Indie Developer Showdown. Maybe we'll find some hidden gold in the trash heap."
He refreshed the competition homepage.
His excitement immediately deflated.
The front page was cluttered with copycats. Dungeon Crawler #452. Generic Anime Waifu Sim. Walking Simulator: Forest Edition.
"Man," Maverick sighed, scrolling past a game called Loot Lord. "I've played half of these concepts already. It's all just... boring. Maybe I should play Loot Lord? It's basically eating dry toast, but at least it's not poisoned."
He was about to click on it when the page auto-refreshed.
A new icon appeared at the bottom of the "New Entries" list.
It stood out because it was so simple. The background was a void of pitch black. In the center sat a single, golden chalice emitting faint, ethereal particles of light.
The title underneath was just three words.
Holy Grail War.
The chat exploded instantly.
[Memelord69]: Holy Grail War? LMAO. [History_Buff]: Is this a documentary? [Sus_Amogus]: That cup looks... suspicious. [DownBad_DownBad]: "Holy Grail"? More like "The Holy Fleshlight." Look at the shape of that rim. [OnlyFans_Simp]: @DownBad_DownBad Bro, you need Jesus. But also... I see it. [Mod_Hammer]:User "DownBad_DownBad" has been timed out for 48 hours. Reason: keep it TOS friendly, idiots.
"Whoa, whoa!" Maverick laughed, seeing the ban hammer drop in the chat log. "Easy, guys! It's a cup! Get your minds out of the gutter. But seriously, the mods are awake, so chill out."
To distract them—and satisfy his own curiosity—Maverick clicked on the icon.
The store page opened. There were no screenshots. No gameplay trailer. Just a black screen with text.
Maverick cleared his throat and put on his best announcer voice.
"Holy Grail War: A battle royale between seven Mages and seven Heroic Spirits, fighting for the omnipotent chalice that can grant any wish..."
He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, the lore sounds kinda sick. Seven on seven? But... who is the dev? 'Silverwood Studios'? Never heard of them. Is this some guy in his basement?"
[Tech_Wizard]: 200GB?! [Data_Miner]: Wait, hold on. Why is the file size 200 gigabytes? Gunfire Reborn is only 27GB and that map is huge. [Virus_Scanner]: It's definitely a crypto miner. Don't do it, Mav. [YOLO_Swag]: Do it. Download it. You've been dying in the lobby all night anyway, what do you have to lose?
"Hey!" Maverick pointed a finger at the camera. "I haven't been 'dying in the lobby.' I've been engaging in high-intensity tactical insertion drills. There's a difference."
The chat flooded with "KEKW" and "Clown" emotes. Maverick's face went slightly pink.
"Whatever," he grumbled, mousing over the download button. "I've got gigabit fiber. Let's see what 200 gigs of 'Indie Game' looks like. If it bricks my PC, I'm suing Silverwood Studios."
He clicked [Download].
Technology in this world was no joke. The progress bar zipped across the screen. 200GB was installed and verified in twenty seconds flat.
"Showtime," Maverick said. He picked up his VR headset, adjusted the strap, and pulled it over his eyes.
"Going dark, chat. Let's see if this 'Holy Grail' is actually holy."
The stream overlay shifted. The camera showing Maverick's face shrunk to the corner, and the main feed switched to the direct capture from his headset.
The screen was completely black.
There was no loading bar. No company logo splashing across the screen. No epilepsy warning.
Just darkness.
And then, text began to bleed into existence, glowing a deep, ominous crimson:
HOLY GRAIL WAR
Simultaneously, the audio kicked in.
It wasn't the generic 8-bit chiptune or the techno-dubstep most indie games used. It was an orchestral swell. Deep, resonating strings that felt like they were vibrating in the viewers' chests, followed by a haunting, operatic choir.
It was "The Beginning of the End"—a masterpiece composed by Yuki Kajiura.
Of course, in this universe, Yuki Kajiura didn't exist. This song had never been heard before.
Yang, the transmigrator, had spent a significant chunk of his Emotion Points to synthesize this specific track. He knew the power of a good opening.
As the violin melody climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of tragedy and epic conflict, the chat went silent for the first time all night.
Maverick, sitting in his chair, felt a shiver run down his spine. The atmosphere wasn't just "good for an indie game." It felt ancient. It felt heavy.
It felt like the calm before a storm that would swallow the world.
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